


Cultural Sensitivity

by tacroy



Category: Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacroy/pseuds/tacroy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He’s so impatient sometimes. With the geography and history you don’t know, or the customs.” She paused to stare around the room, her eyes distant. “It’s because he’s so used to us always being here that he forgets we’re not from here. It’s a really terrible compliment of his, I think.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cultural Sensitivity

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by dinahlance.

Conrad was sprawled across the top of the unmade bed, reading a book about Nicéphore Niépce that Anthea had given him. He had gotten distracted by it halfway through dressing and the strings of his shirtsleeves trailed all over the pages. Christopher and Millie had been arguing about something or another while they were dressing, and Conrad only looked up at them when Christopher said loudly, “Well, Goddess, that is not how we do it in England.”

Millie’s face went from merely irritated to almost the color of her pale dress. Christopher’s eyes widened and Conrad tried very hard not to laugh at how stricken he looked.

“I don’t think you’ll be doing it at all in England,” Millie hissed at him after an excruciating pause. She snatched up her overdress and comb and stalked out of the room.

“Oh hell,” said Christopher, sitting heavily on the bed.

Conrad rolled over to him and put his head on Christopher’s thigh. “What have you done this time, then?” he asked, peering up at the underside of Christopher’s chin.

Christopher ran his fingers distractedly through Conrad’s fluffy hair. “I, er. Might have implied that some of her ways of doing things are distinctly, well. Heathen.”

Conrad closed his eyes. “Good lord, Christopher. That was fine back when you thought each other were heathens. Are you still twelve, then?”

“You know I’m not,” said Christopher, but the lewdness was only halfhearted.

Conrad sat up and buttoned his collar. “I’ll go. You stay and dress, I know it’ll take you another half hour.”

“It will not,” said Christopher indignantly. Conrad rolled his eyes and shoved Christopher back onto the bed, then leaned down and kissed him thoroughly.

“There,” Conrad said, leaning over Christopher and grinning. “Now I’ve messed up your hair. Forty-five minutes.”

Christopher only had a chance to splutter before Conrad was gone, closing the door with a snap behind him.

=

Millie was knitting furiously when Conrad found her in the salon. She had added at least an inch to the sweater she had been working on. Conrad, finishing the ties on his sleeves, came in and sat down next to her. There was a still-steaming tea service between them that Millie hadn’t touched.

Conrad waited, pouring himself (two milk) and Millie (one milk, one sugar) tea and stirring it slowly. Finally Millie threw her knitting down and said, “It’s not that I mind most of the time, because I quite like it here. But Christopher simply doesn’t understand that not everyone grew up under the Empire and sometimes I have to do things the Series Ten way to make myself feel sane again.”

Conrad put his hand out to her. “I know. We don’t mind. You should do things however you want, Millie.”

“Oh, I do,” Millie assured him, taking his hand and the tea. “I never let anyone stop me from worshiping on Asheth’s Day. Or from the week rituals. But it’s the other things, the non-religious bits, that seem to bother people. Like how I can’t stand the clothes around here sometimes. Like when I go about in the urin, or how I eat.”

Every month or so Millie would walk around in very traditional clothes, which were quite outlandish by 12A standards, and the ministers Gabriel de Witt brought up from London would stare quite rudely at her. The urin was a way of meditative walking and singing that looked (and sounded) funny to English standards, and Millie always ate one element at a time, never mixing certain foods, and very quickly with large bites without using her knife.

“I know he irritates you too,” Millie went on. “He’s so impatient sometimes. With the geography and history you don’t know, or the customs.” She paused to stare around the room, her eyes distant. “It’s because he’s so used to us always being here that he forgets we’re not from here. It’s a really terrible compliment of his, I think.” She glanced around, alert once more. “Come here. There’s no one in the wing.”

Conrad grinned and got to his knees next to Millie’s chair. She leaned over the arm of it and kissed his ear while he kissed her neck, and she closed her eyes when his teeth scraped over her jaw. “I love you, Millie,” he said into her cheek.

She turned his face towards hers with the light touch of her fingertips. “I wish you could stay forever.” She looked immeasurably sad, and Conrad couldn’t have that expression on her face. He kissed her as meaningfully as he could, trying to say all the things he couldn’t express.

They heard footsteps in the passage and pulled away hastily. But it was only Christopher, peeking around the doorway to the salon and looking utterly chastened. He wasn’t wearing a jacket and his necktie was knotted inexactly. “I’m so sorry, Millie,” he burst out. “I don’t—” He put his hands in his hair. “I’m so bad at this. I know you need—help and encouragement with everything—and I don’t give it because I’m—”

“A prat?” Millie offered coldly.

“Yes,” said Christopher immediately. “A huge, great prat.”

“You are a puffed-up, full of yourself peacock, that’s what you are,” said Millie, standing and leveling her finger at him. “You’re insensitive, rash, overconfident, and utterly inconsiderate of the feelings of others.”

“Yes,” said Christopher, nodding energetically. “I’m awful. I am. I’m all of those things.”

“And you need help not being that way just like I need help defending my customs,” said Millie. “So I don’t appreciate it when you turn on Conrad and me and start making light of our ways.” Christopher opened his mouth to agree but Millie raised her eyebrow at him, and he shut it. “Now, I’m going to forgive you, but Christopher—really. Think about this.”

“I will,” Christopher said seriously. It was the same tone of voice he had used when he had first told Millie and Conrad how he felt about them, and Conrad knew he was being true.

“Fine, then,” said Millie, walking forward and primly kissing Christopher on the cheek. “I’m going to walk down to the village. Would you two like to come?”

“Yes,” said Christopher and Conrad together. Conrad came over to where Christopher and Millie were standing, and she took both their hands and smiled, finally, then led them out of doors.


End file.
